I got conned twice by Matchstick
Men, but I hesitate to reveal any more than that. In fact, I somewhat regret even typing the first part of that
sentence. It's a joy to be grifted the first time by director Ridley Scott and
screenwriters Nicholas and Ted Griffin (adapting Eric Garcia's novel) and
absolutely infuriating the second. I
cannot get into specifics; it would be unfair. I will only say that the film seems to be one thing, and by the end
(either through subtle turns in the plot, a surprise ending, both, or
neither—I will not say), it has become something entirely new. The resulting item at once begs to be taken both literally and
figuratively, as we scratch our heads, realize exactly what has passed, and
understand that it is a brilliant turn of events. In plotting, it makes us question everything we've
seen. It also just makes sense; it is the only possible outcome. In theme, it makes us question everything we
felt. It's a reflection of film's magic ability to con us suckers watching
still images move at twenty-four frames per second on a white screen and
actually believe to one degree or another that we've been swept away. Then the film goes on for another ten minutes or so and shoots down most
of that.

Roy Waller (Nicolas Cage) is an
obsessive-compulsive con artist who has hit a career lull. He and his apprentice Frank (Sam Rockwell) have been selling overpriced
water-filtration systems with the bogus promise of a fabulous prize to lonely
old women and housewives looking to surprise their husbands. It's small potatoes compared to their more lucrative scams, and Roy is having trouble keeping his mental quirks out of the workplace, especially
now that he's run out of medication and his doctor has unexpectedly left town. Frank recommends Dr. Klein (Bruce Altman), a psychiatrist with a solid
reputation, to help keep Roy working, because without him, Frank makes no money.
Dr. Klein not only puts Roy on an experimental new medication to help with his situation but also makes an
effort to uncover the reasons behind his condition. There is, of course, his ex-wife, who left him before he sobered
up. She was pregnant at the time, and Roy wonders what has become of his child. Dr.
Klein arranges a meeting between Roy and his fourteen-year-old daughter Angela
(Alison Lohman), who is having problems of her own at home.

The relationship between father and daughter
develops naturally amid the progression of Roy and Frank's plan to dupe a rich
businessman named Chuck Frechette (Bruce McGill) involving the exchange of
American currency for higher value British notes. At first, Roy and Angela start off
uncomfortably. She has questions he can't answer, and he has no idea of where to begin
relating to a child. Slowly but
surely, this chain-smoking tic machine, who barks like a dog, makes loud groans
of confusion when lost for words, and twitches incessantly, becomes an endearing
father. Angela is bewitched by the
enigma of this man, who says he sells antiques but has thousands in cash and a
gun hidden within a tacky dog statue that barks when you remove its head. He—never having a personal relationship with any woman since his
ex-wife—is also intrigued by this young girl, who presents a new challenge and
a chance to atone for his past transgressions. Inevitably, Angela learns the truth about her father's profession and not
surprisingly wants to learn some tricks of her own. This sets the stage for a wonderful sequence that serves as a chance for
bonding, a display of skill, and a precursor for the con games that will follow.

Scott and editor Dody Dorn keep the pacing brisk
and elicit a certain level of tension even in the most relatively innocent
schemes. When the big scam arrives,
there's already a connection to each of these characters. Nicolas Cage has the physicality down, and he keeps the exaggerated
elements of his character charming enough that they're never overbearing. It's a reminder of a Cage that wasn't afraid to take
risks. Scott, Dorn, and cinematographer John Mathieson visually and rhythmically
portray Roy's mental state in times of strain, further allowing us a window of sympathy for
him. Alison Lohman is actually
twenty-four but effortlessly passes for this character ten years her junior. Energetic and unrestricted, Lohman's portrayal captures the insecure
confidence of youth along with its uncensored attitude. At the climax of a heartbreaking fight between Angela and Roy, she
stingingly tells him, "You're not a bad guy. You're just not a very good one."
In the role of the protégé, Sam Rockwell serves as a subtler antithesis
to Cage's off-the-wall eccentricity. With
slighter bits of odd behavior, Frank seems like the kind of man who needs
guidance but one whose confidence guarantees success once he's had it.

The film moves along confidently, expertly,
diving into the lives of these characters, showing their weaknesses, and fully
involving us in their exploits. The
central relationship between Roy and Angela is affecting, and Roy's slow transition to normalcy is believable and never
condescending. The climactic heist sequence continuously raises the stakes in a brief
space of time, and its ultimate outcome is unknown long enough to continue
suspense after it has passed. The
story seems to be heading in any number of directions, and it's this
unpredictability that makes the finale pack an unexpected punch. For no reason, though, the film takes the time for an
epilogue. It's a clearly tacked-on
Hollywood
ending that makes sure we know that, despite whatever may have happened, things
turn out all right. The coda starts
uncomfortably with one relationship being reevaluated and ends inexplicably with
the creation of another. The
sequence takes ten minutes to say something that a much briefer sequence could
have said more convincingly and appropriately, but even still, leaving things as
they are would have been much more powerful.

The
ending is extremely problematic and difficult to overlook, and as much as I hate
to say it, the film will probably play better on DVD when one has the ability to
simply stop watching before the denouement (or perhaps with the release of a
director's cut). Awkward as it may
be, Matchstick Men's conclusion is a
comparatively small sin attached to an otherwise superlative character study and
comedy of deceit.